August 3rd marks the release of Southern Comfort, the follow-up to my contemporary rom-com Southern Hospitality! Can you say excited? But what’s a new release without a cover reveal? So for the next 6 days I’ll bring you the wonderful cover for Southern Comfort one little piece at a time. Here’s the first one…

Not much happens in sleepy Jefferson County, Tennessee. That is, until Yankee reporter Roxanne Ackerman’s car breaks down there on her way to Memphis, and she somehow winds up as a murder suspect! With no one to bail her out and the local judge on a fishing trip, Roxanne is surrendered into the custody of her ultra-conservative-yet-oh-so-sexy attorney, Malcolm B. Daniels IV, for the weekend.

Malcolm is nearly engaged, running for U.S. Senate, and really does not need this gorgeous, wild woman in his life right now. He just has to show her a little Southern hospitality until he can get the case dropped on Monday morning, and things will finally go back to normal.

But the more time they spend together, the more sparks fly between them. One weekend might be all the time Roxanne needs to work her way into his heart and make his life exciting again. What if, when Monday comes, he doesn’t want to let her go?

~*~ Excerpt ~*~

He never even bothered to look at her. It seemed as if something over her shoulder held more interest for him. Most likely Lila dancing with Miss Gertie’s great-nephew from Hattiesburg. Malcolm was probably keeping an eye on the pair just to make sure the handsome doctor wasn’t copping a feel. After all, she and Malcolm were practically engaged.

The thought made Roxanne miss the beat, and she crashed into Malcolm—hard. Her foot, clad in its high-heeled sandal, crashed down on top of his foot—hard.

“Sorry.” She winced. That was going to leave a mark.

“It’s okay,” he replied, just like the gentleman he was.

“I know you might find this hard to believe, but I used to be a pretty good dancer.”

“No offense, but what happened?”

She shrugged. “Out of practice, I guess.”

“Hmmm … I thought dancing was one of those things a person never forgets how to do. You know, like riding a bike.”

“Sex.” Roxanne immediately wished she could take it back.

“I beg your pardon?” He picked that precise moment to meet her gaze.

“You can forget how to ride a bike, but you’ll never … I mean … most people have—” She faltered, the heat from her cheeks mixing with the too-warm Tennessee night to make her light-headed. She couldn’t finish the thought with those knowing brown eyes trained on her. Instead, she focused on the tiny black sutures adorning his strong chin.

“Are you trying to say that sex is unforgettable?” The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Uh … something like that,” she mumbled, hoping the slurred words passed for a real answer. Here she was again trying to make coherent thoughts when her mind was filled with images of … well, sex. And Malcolm. And sex with Malcolm. She didn’t know for a fact if sex itself had ever proven to be unforgettable, but she was certain that sex with Malcolm would be.

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